Cold Feet?
by ShooBeans
Summary: Morgan stresses while waiting for Reid just before their first date. Morgan/Reid slash.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, there'd be a lot more loving and petting.**

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His hands tightened on the steering wheel of his car, knuckles going faintly white as evident of the pressure, the leather squeaking in protest. Derek had said 6:30. Derek had said that he would pick Rei-er-_Spencer_, he mentally corrected himself, up at 6:30. But yet here he was, sitting outside of Spencer's apartment building… And it was 6:30.

Correction, 6:31.

Maybe Spencer had come to his senses and realized just how bad of an idea this all was? Realized that he wanted nothing to do with the womanizing, new-piece-of-arm-candy-every-night-Derek-Morgan? Derek couldn't say that he would blame Spencer if that were the case. After all, he was selfishly asking the other male to put his career on the line and for what?

Shit. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this. Spencer had probably only agreed so as to not hurt Derek's feelings. Dear god, how could Derek have missed that? Of course Spencer wouldn't have rejected him - the younger profiler was far too kind to even consider doing something like that.

Panic was setting in and Derek could swear that with how fast his heart was beating, he was about to have a heart attack or maybe a stroke or a heart murmur or whatever it was that made you feel like your heart was about to fly out of your chest. The panic only seemed to grow worse as Derek's dark gaze flickered towards the digital clock on the stereo of his car. 6:33. He hastily sucked in a sharp breath.

Reminding himself that panicking would help no one, he slouched back in his seat, though he had yet to release his steering wheel from the vice grip. What did they always say? Focus on your breathing and count to ten? Derek contemplated the counting for all of a moment before promptly rolling his eyes and snorting at how ridiculous that method truly was. But the breathing thing seemed to be helping, at least enough for the dark skinned male to regain _some_ of his composer. It was amusing really, to the point where Derek could have laughed if it weren't for the fact that he was still terrified, that he could face down the worst serial killers known to man and remain in control, but yet the possibility of scrawny, trouble prone, socially awkward Spencer Reid turning him down damn near had him entering a panic attack. Oh god, the things that that kid did to him…

Another inhale of breath as Derek finally succeeded in steadying himself. He had to think about this logically. After all, Spencer was nothing if not logical. If Spencer didn't want to go out with him, he wouldn't have accepted. Logically. Even though Spencer was the sort to spare other's feelings at any and all costs, he wouldn't have given in, knowing that logically it would do more harm than good in the long run. Spencer would have found the most diplomatic solution that best let Morgan down while still keeping their present relationship in tact. After all, if he didn't want their friendship to continue, he could have simply flat out rejected Derek and walked away. No, Spencer had to care at least somewhat.

The steering wheel creaked once more but it was completely lost on Derek.

What if maybe… maybe he was supposed to go to Spencer's door? That'd certainly make sense. After all, that was usually what Derek did when picking a girl up for a date. The only problem was that Derek had no idea just where Reid's apartment was located inside the large building. The male cursed himself for not having considered this when he had said that he'd pick the other up. Of course Spencer would be expecting Derek to come and get him. That's what a real gentleman would do after all. Great, just great. The date hadn't even started and already Derek was coming off as an asshole.

And it was 6:39.

Yes, Spencer was definitely waiting for Derek to arrive. After all, Spencer would never even consider being late for anything. Absentmindedly he bit the side of his cheek, eyes trained on the entryway into the building. He wondered f he could find some sort of management to flash his badge to, say it was an emergency or something and demand that he be taken to Spencer's apartment… Of course the idea wasn't even really considered; Derek knew just how stupid he was being. He would simply have to bite the bullet and call Reid, admit that he didn't exactly know which apartment he lived in… Really, it wasn't that big of a deal, right?

Spencer would understand. What was there to not understand? … So why did Derek dread the thought of making that call? It made no sense. Of course, the problem with being in love with someone with an eidetic memory is that you're always wondering if you've forgotten something. Maybe Spencer _had _told him which apartment was his. So by calling, he'd be admitting that he didn't remember which, in turn, Spencer could take to mean that Derek hadn't cared enough to be paying attention and - … God Derek hated profiles sometimes. He hated constantly overanalyzing, he hated constantly being overanalyzed.

Derek's heart suddenly skipped a beat, his posture straightening and a smile broke out across his face. All previous thoughts of Spencer's possible rejection quickly vacating his mind as the young genius moved out of the building finally. The younger male paused on the sidewalk, shifting his omnipresent messenger bag on his shoulder, brushing some of the brown locks out of his eyes. Derek swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. As Spencer almost timidly made his way over to the vehicle, nervous hands smoothing his clothes before he slid into the passenger side, Derek had never been more relieved to see the profiler in all his ugly sweater vest glory. Spencer hadn't gotten cold feet. If anything, he looked excited; nervous, but excited. Spencer slyly returned Derek's grin as he shifted his bag into his lap, closing the door behind him.

"Uh… sorry I'm late. I, well, I couldn't quite decide what to wear," Spencer confided apologetically. He shifted against the leather of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before his gaze fell downwards. "I mean… I still don't know if I've gotten it quite right. I mean I, ah, don't quite know how to dress for these sorts of social situations and… Well, I could always go back up and cha-."

"Spencer," Derek cut in, wishing to ease the other's obvious distress and worry, "you look perfect." Derek wouldn't change the cord pants and ugly tie for anything in the world. Spencer glanced back up towards Derek, grinning once more, and Derek could swear he saw a trace of a blush painted across the other's cheeks.

Derek slowly turned the key in the ignition after it occurred to him that he was doing nothing but sitting there staring at the younger male, stating an absentminded, "Shall we?" With a nod from Spencer, they were off, and Derek couldn't help but think that this was the best night of his life when he felt a warm hand gently reach over and gingerly lace their fingers together.


End file.
